Walking Through That Door
by dharmamonkey
Summary: Having spent a heart-wrenching weekend posing as Brennan's husband at her high school reunion after she'd rejected him on the steps of the Hoover, Booth is surprised when she asks for a second chance and confesses her feelings to him. Episode tag "Death of the Queen Bee" (5x17).


**Walking Through That Door**

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**By: **dharmamonkey  
**Rated: **M  
**Disclaimer: **Hart Hanson owns Bones. But people like me who play in his sandbox give you all those delicious little moments that Hart and friends leave out. In this case, AU do-overs of situations that might've gone a bit differently & changed the course of the show. That's why you read fanfic.

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**A/N: **_Set towards the end of "The Death of the Queen Bee," right after the arrest of Julie Coyle. This is an AU vision of what might've been had Booth and Brennan gone ahead and decided to walk through that door._

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Fact was, I didn't want to slow-dance with her.

Well, I mean, I did, but...

It's hard to explain, but when Bones asked me to slow-dance, it seemed like it was yet another in a series of heartbreaking 'almosts' and 'coulda-beens' that I'd been getting hammered with for months.

"_Can we still work together?" _she'd asked me that night at the Hoover, just moments after more or less telling me she could never love me or be in a real relationship with me. _"Yeah," _I'd told her, and so we did—we kept working together, side by side, and all the while, it felt like each time I touched that space between us, a spark would leap out and remind me of what I couldn't have, and each time, it seared me deeply. Each and every damn time. Then we got this case, and had to come out to her hometown in the semi-rural suburbs of Chicago, and go to her high school reunion, and I had to pose as her husband. I wore a wedding band, introduced myself as her husband—hell, we even talked in front of other people about having sex—but it was all a ruse, a façade. None of it was real. And it hurt. It ached, deep down low in the pit of my stomach. It hurt.

A part of me didn't want to slow-dance with her if it meant going through the motions again knowing that none of it was real. It was just too hard. But I did it. Just like I did in agreeing to keep working together, I did it for her, and for our partnership. And, selfishly, I guess, for me. If I couldn't have her the way I wanted to have her, maybe it was still worth having as much of her as I could have. Maybe that sounds wrong, but in that moment, that's how I felt.

So there we were, slow-dancing to that Seal song, keeping a body's-width of space between us because I just didn't think I could handle being any closer to her, and then we saw the stars drop from the ceiling of her high school gym and she turned to me and said how this was the "prom that I never got to go to."

_Aww, hell..._

God, when she said that, and I saw the tears well up in her eyes, I knew there was nothing I wouldn't do for her. So I danced with her. She put her arms around me, rested her chin on my shoulder, and we danced, hip to hip, chest to chest. I felt her body's warmth through her dress and the thin, summer-weight wool of my light gray suit slacks. I felt the soft pressure of her breasts against my chest, shifting slightly as our bodies swayed to the music.

As our bodies moved together as the music filled the air around us, I felt my heart begin to flutter in my chest. I swallowed, closed my eyes and took a deep breath. She was everywhere around me—her fingertips pressing ever so slightly into me, and her warm cheek pressed against my ear, and my nose filling with the smell of her light floral perfume and that ginger-coconut scented shampoo she uses—and I felt strange, awkward and complete all at the same time, but while my heart was racing at feeling her body against mine, I felt a swirling dark sensation in my belly, because everything I had in that moment, I knew I couldn't have. She didn't want me, that way. I asked her to give it a shot and she said no, that she wasn't a gambler, she was a scientist and she couldn't change. I tried to put it out of my mind, but every breath I took, I felt the smell of her wrapping around me like a cloak, and I don't think I've ever known another time in my life when I felt so good and yet so awful in the same moment.

But it was important to her that she get to enjoy that moment, that dance, and savor at least for a little while the prom she never got to go to.

So I danced.

By the time I got back up to my room after we arrested Julie Coyle and sent her off to jail in the back of the sheriff's patrol car, I felt a tense energy crackling through my limbs. I was keyed up, buzzing with an anxious energy after spending the weekend pretending to be married to Bones, and the better part of the previous two hours slow-dancing with her.

I could smell her perfume on my clothes. Stripping out of my suit, I realized it wasn't just my clothes—I could still smell her, that light floral scent, like tea roses, mixed with a hint of ginger and sweet coconut—so I took a long, hot shower, hoping to wash the delicious smell of her off of me, and relax that tingliness out of my muscles. I stood there under the hard stream for a long time, closing my eyes and letting the water pummel my back as I leaned forward and into the cool tile wall of the shower. When I felt as relaxed as I figured I'd ever be, I turned around and cut off the water, but for a couple of more minutes I just stood there, unsure of what to do. I wanted to get drunk, to drink myself into fucking oblivion so I didn't have to think about anything anymore, but my room didn't have a mini-bar and I wasn't motivated enough to go out and search for a liquor store in that crappy, quasi-rural suburban town. I'd no sooner stepped out of the shower and reached for a scratchy white hotel towel when I heard a knock on my door.

For a second, I'd have swore my heart stopped. The _rap-rap, rap-rap-rap _knock was distinctive and unique, and I knew who it was the second I heard it.

I rubbed the towel over my crotch and yelled out, "One second." I reached into my suitcase and grabbed a pair of old gray Army sweatpants and was about to rummage for a clean T-shirt (my other two being dirty after I went jogging in them that morning and the morning before) when I heard another knock on the door. _Rap-rap, rap-rap-rap._

"Booth," she called to me, her voice somewhat muffled by the heavy hotel room door. "It's me."

"I _know_ it's you," I growled back. "Gimme one goddamn second, alright? I just got out of the shower."

I swiveled my head around and looked around for my clean T-shirt, wondering if I'd accidentally dropped it while looking for my socks that morning, but at that moment, it was nowhere to be found. Facing a split-second decision as to whether to put on a smelly, sweaty T-shirt or just answer the door in my sweats, I went with option B.

"What?" I snapped as I jerked the door open and found my partner standing there in dark jeans and a snug-fitting, ballet-necked, dark brown cashmere sweater. I stood there awkwardly for a second as I swallowed hard, feeling in that moment like all the clarity of mind that I'd managed to attain in the course of my long hot shower was for naught the minute she showed up at my door.

She must have been surprised, too, judging by the way she was looking at me. It was then that my mind seemed to reengage and I remembered I was standing there half-dressed, and I glanced down at my bare belly and my sockless feet, then looked up at her with a sheepish grin. "Sorry," I said with a little shrug.

"No," she said, shifting her weight from one hip to the other as I held the door open. "I'm sorry, I...I-I...I shouldn't have come...I, uhh...I should have called you..."

Seeing the embarrassment flicker in those beautiful blue eyes of hers, and hearing the tentative wavering of her voice, I suddenly felt a wave of butterflies in the pit of my stomach as I wanted nothing more than to reassure her. "No, no, no," I said to her in a low voice, opening the door wider. "It's okay...come on..." I saw her eyebrows fly up in surprise and a shiver pass through me. "Really, come on in," I said with a soft jerk of my chin. She gave me a faint smile and came in, and as she walked past me, I dropped my arm, letting the heavy hotel room door close with a _clunk _behind her as I scanned my room again looking for that damn third T-shirt that I swore I'd packed.

I knew Bones was watching me as I bent over and lifted up the bedskirt, scowling as I found nothing there.

"I'm sorry," she said again as I stood up and ruffled my hand over the back of my head, sprinkling water onto my chest and the floor as I realized I hadn't even towel-dried my hair before answering the door.

I glanced down and looked at my wet hand, then smiled and shook my head. "No, really," I told her. "It's fine. What's up, Bones?" Propping my hands on my hips, I cocked my head to the side and looked at her. I could see the tension in her body language—the way her normally proud shoulders were slumped a little, and the way her fingers wiggled as her hands touched her thighs—but more than anything, it was the way she looked back at me, and the expression in her cool blue-gray eyes, that gave me that sick swirl of concern in my gut.

She looked away for a few seconds and stared out the window at the gray, featureless sky outside, pressing her lips together as she seemed to struggle for words. After a moment, she took a deep breath and turned her head, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly as she looked into mine.

"I made a mistake, Booth," she told me, her eyebrows arching up as she took another deep breath. "I made a decision, and after a great deal of thought..." She pursed her lips and shook her head a little, as if in response to a voice in the back of her head. Bones opened her mouth and took a small breath as if she were about to say more, then she narrowed her eyes a little and hesitated, breaking the gaze we shared and looking down at her booted feet with a sigh. "Maybe I shouldn't have..." She gave me a sad shrug and another sigh as I saw then that her eyes shimmered with moisture.

I took a step towards her and reached for her, lightly touching her forearm with my left hand. "Bones," I said quietly, unable to shake the dark, swirling feeling in my gut. "What is it?"

She looked down at my hand and brought her other hand up, holding my hand against her arm as she thumbed the white gold ring—the fake wedding band that the FBI had given me as part of our cover—on my finger. I'd forgotten to take it off before my shower. That gesture, seeing her touch and acknowledge that symbol on my finger that represented an institution she found outdated and a commitment she'd never make, was like a punch in the gut, and I felt my throat tighten as I watched her stroke her fingers over the ring. A heavy silence hung between us for a few seconds before I pulled my hand away and took a step back.

Bones blinked, but the moisture glistening in her eyes held, and she didn't shed a tear. She took a breath and began to speak again. "You know that night at the Hoover, when—?"

Did I remember that night at the Hoover? I remembered it all too well. Every damn second of it. It was possibly the worst night of my life. I laid it all on the line—everything, all of my cards, spread out on the table in front of her—and I told her I wanted to give us a shot. She said no. What else was there to say? Nothing, as far as I was concerned. If she wanted to rehash or rationalize why she did what she did, I didn't want to hear it. It had been so hard to keep going, to work with her and see her every day, after having my heart ripped out like that, and I knew I couldn't bear to go through all that again.

"Look," I said, running my hand through my hair as I felt my neck and shoulders tighten. "That's done, okay? I don't want to talk about that again, Bones. I understand the way you feel, and why you did what you did, alright, but It's done, and—"

"Booth," she said, cutting me off and taking a step towards me again.

She reached out and touched my chest, her fingers splayed as she pressed her fingertips into my skin, which was still damp from my shower. Her touch electrified me, and for a second there I thought I felt my heart stop. My knees wobbled briefly, but I recovered and looked up to meet her eyes, which were even more rimmed with moisture than they were just moments before.

"I know that...in science...well..." I could see her stumbling for words, and I stood there, breathless, dreading what she might say might pull me back into the exhausting emotional riptide I'd been stuck in for months. But something inside of me made me hold my tongue. "Nothing in this universe happens just once, Booth," she explained, each word spoken slowly and deliberately. "Infinity goes in both directions. There's no unique event, no singular moment in time." She paused, and I saw her swallow nervously. I knew this was hard for her, finding the words to say whatever she was trying to say, even though at that point, I wasn't sure what it was.

I saw her drop her gaze as she looked down at her hand and stroke her two forefingers down my chest an inch or two before pulling her hand away. The moment she did it, I sighed at the sudden loss of contact, which seemed even more searing than the touch did in the first place, and I exhaled a breath that I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

"Bones," I said, my voice low and breathy. A part of me wanted to tell her, _don't jerk me around_. Instead, I managed enough self-control, though my heart was pounding in my chest with a dozen anxieties of my own, to tamp down the tone of my question. "What are you saying here?"

Though her eyes were averted, I saw her blink and it seemed like a long stretch of silence hung between us before she answered. She gave a slight, almost imperceptible, nod, then looked up at me again, her pale eyes suddenly bright and wide as I swore I could see into them like giant shimmering wells of emotion.

"I want a second chance," she said to me, her voice low and raspy with gravity. "I don't know if you even want me still, and I have no idea what I am doing when it comes to relationships or feelings or forging emotional connections, and maybe I'll fail miserably at this, but I..." She blinked again and this time, a single tear dropped from her eye and dribbled down her cheek, coming to rest on the edge of her beautiful square jaw. "I hope it's not too late, but...if you're still...I was thinking that maybe...I..." She rolled her lips between her teeth and took a ragged breath. "I want to...in your words...'give this a shot.' If you..."

Her voice trailed off again as she shook her head and, after I stood there in stunned silence for a few seconds without responding, turned towards the door.

"Bones," I said, blurting her name out as I took a step towards her and placed my hand on her shoulder. "Wait, please..."

She turned around again. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

My heart sank a little at hearing her voice crumble like that. My gut swirled with what felt like a hundred different emotions right then—hope, shock, relief, disbelief, frustration, confusion and anger—but more than anything, I felt my skin flush warm as I brought my hand to her jaw, turning her head and lifting her chin so I could look her in the eye.

"Look," I said, feeling my head bobbing a little as the tidal wave of emotions that were roiling in my gut seemed to bubble up and inundate me as I met her wide eyes and felt my heart clench at the raw vulnerability I saw in their depths. "I can't do this if...you gotta be sure, Bones, that this is...that you're serious here, because...I just don't know if..."

I could feel my heart thundering in my chest as I struggled to make myself understood. There was something about the way she looked at me, so open and so exposed, which somehow emboldened me to take that last step and do the same—to go all-in, again.

And so I did.

"I love you, Bones," I told her, curling my fingers under her jaw as I leaned in, my lips hovering just inches from hers as she blinked another tear loose from her shimmering eyes. I could feel her breaths, shallow and fast, like warm little puffs on my upper lip as my nostrils burned and my jaw tingled with tears of my own. "I love you, okay? And you...you don't have to tell me anything now, except that you really want to...that you're serious about this, because..." I pulled back a little, opening a few more inches of space between us as I once again searched for the right words. "I can't go through that again, you know...put myself out there and..."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. I didn't want to scare her. I knew she already felt like she was walking a tightwire, and I knew she was light years outside of her comfort zone. But I needed to be sure.

"Bones," I whispered. "Do you really mean it? Do you really want me...to try and make something with me? To be something, you and me, together?"

"Yes," she answered, her voice low and almost breathless. "Yes, if you'll—"

My mouth fell open and I wanted to say something, something reassuring and deep, but in that moment, I had no words, only a wave of feeling and love that filled my chest. Unable to speak, I turned my head a little to the side and leaned in, gently pulling her chin towards me as I felt her lips brush softly against mine.

She didn't say anything, either—not with words, anyway—but pressed her lips against mine and made a little moaning sound that I took as encouragement. I felt the tip of her tongue slide across the top of my lower lip and as our tongues met in the warm, sweet space made by our hungrily grasping mouths, I felt my skin crackle with the heat that was building between us. I dropped my hand to her hip and squeezed it, letting my thumb slide under the hem of her sweater and touch the silky skin on the side of her belly.

I fell into her kiss and in so doing, into her, and as we kissed, I felt the hurt, the tight, hard ache that I'd been holding inside of my chest for so many months—years, even—slowly loosen and, as I watched her fall back onto the bed, her porcelain skin glowing under the warm light of the room, the hurt seemed to evaporate into thin air.

Everything that had ever stood between us seemed to melt away as we made love that night.

It was the most incredible experience of my life, the way it felt to dive into her, to drive into her, to let myself be swallowed up by her. Each time I rocked into her, I buried myself as deep inside of her as I could, letting the warm, snug feel of her wash over me in waves as her nails scraped across my back. Looking down at her, I found myself in awe of her, the way her skin glowed and glistened, the way her beautiful breasts swayed each time I rose up into her, the way she arched her head back and exposed the long line of her gorgeous neck to me, filling the room with her sighs and the steady peaking of her moans as I leaned in to worship that silky neck of hers with my lips. I felt her body shudder, her thighs closing around me as her sighs turned to gasps and I knew she was close. Kissing her neck one last time, laying one last sucking kiss at the soft curve where her neck and shoulder met, I raised myself up so I could see her face and chest flush as she shattered around me. It was the single most beautiful sight I'd ever seen in my life, and the moment I saw her forehead crease and then uncrease as her chest flushed a wonderful, rosy shade of pink, I felt myself break.

"Ohhh," I moaned as I arched my back and emptied myself into her. After a few moments, when I'd caught my breath enough to form words, I opened my eyes and looked down at her, unable to contain a smile as she gazed back up at me with heavy-lidded eyes and a satisfied smile of her own.

"God, I love you," I whispered. And the fact was, I think I always had.

Six years of false starts, miscues, mistakes and missed opportunities kept us from that moment. But, though I had loved her for so long that it was hard to remember a time when I hadn't loved her, in the end, it wasn't _my_ doing that got us where we are today.

It was _hers_. It was Bones who had the courage to walk through that door.

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**A/N: **_So there you are. I really love Season 5 *pauses for sound of booing* because, despite all the angst after episode 100, there's still a faint glimmer of optimism and a latent hope woven into each of the later episodes, including "Death of the Queen Bee," that B&B will find their way to happiness together. _

_Please, tell me what you thought of that. It wasn't much, I know, but the muse delivered it, and I decided to share. Do let me know what you thought :-) Leave a review._

_Thanks for reading!_


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